


More than a faded memory

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boundaries, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Negotiation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: He suddenly remembered the first time he had waken up Jane by panicking in his sleep − not his first episode by far but the first she had witnessed. He shushed Becky as gently as he could, holding her close. How helpless he had felt in Jane's arms then, how weak. Maybe there had been a meaning to it after all, granting him the strength to support Becky in his turn. A reason not to feel so void, so hopeless. A purpose to make her feel safe.This is the explicit companion fic to my previous story "Now A Family", as they take place within the same AU, but either can be read independently.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Tom Houston
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19





	More than a faded memory

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that although no assault is present or described, this story handles the theme of sexual trauma. If this is something you cannot or do not want to read about, I recommend you skip this one.

Falling in love with Becky was even easier the second time.

The same thrill, the never ending excitement of seeing each other again, of loving again. Back then, she had been his sweetheart, the girl of his dreams but it had taken years apart to realize she was and always would be the love of his life. Even without each other, they had grown closer if not in deed, then in experience and having found her again, they fit together so much tighter, so much better than before. Tom's heart was full with Becky Barnes, the soothing comfort of a long lost love found again never to be parted.

And then, the delicious ecstasy of catching up fifteen years apart, their hands always on each other, teenagers in rut again. Secretive love being made, sneaking around for his kid's sake. Becky Barnes in his arms, in his bed, Becky everywhere and everywhen. That, at least, had not changed. Tom thought it hadn't.

The past caught up again unaware.

Becky had been in a naughty mood all night, which had delighted and embarrassed him equally, so cheeky she could get. He might have blushed if he had been a teenager again. Her hand riding up across his thigh under the table of the booth, the kisses she gave him ever longer and bolder. She had always known how to tease him and it was with a heavy heart he had to ask her firmly not to distract him when he drove them back to her place. Of course, she knew. Of course, she understood. Fifteen minutes of a quiet ride back, but they more than made up for it as soon as the car stopped.

They made out like they were kids again, like they had never seen each other naked and were bursting with anticipation. Slowly, they made the way to the front door and Tom was slammed against it as soon as it closed on them. He had hoped to make it to the bedroom at least but Becky pushed him against the kitchen table and he had barely sat his butt on the edge of it that she sank to her knees in front of him.

Unbuckling his belt four-handed, tugging down the boxers, the growl of her when she had her hand around him. A pump of her palm and he was hard. She took him in her mouth, how soft and tight and hot the deep kisses of her. So enthusiastically, freely given too.

" _Fuck_."

Her tongue teasing against the length of him, she took him as deep as she could. Shiny blue eyes challenging him, though he didn't know with what. He smiled and there was a bit of a smile too in the way she blinked, looking up at him. Love on the tip of her tongue. He sat more comfortably to better look at her, brushed a curl of hair behind her ear, held her soft cheek gently.

The switch was instantaneous. He couldn't explain it to himself, but suddenly she was frozen under his touch. All the passion was gone and she had stopped moving. Her eyes welled up with tears and Tom pulled out, dropped to the ground to check on her. She was a ghost.

"Shit," he blurted out. "Shit, babe, what's wrong?"

She seemed to become aware of herself again and pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. She was shaking. Tom was hesitant to touch her and favored refraining from it to be sure. He did not want to make her worse than she was. The belt was buckled again, the mood disappeared on either side. He didn't know what to say. Perhaps it was better to say nothing at all and wait.

"I'm sorry," she said after a long few minutes.

She lifted her head, though she was staring down at the ground, not at him.

"Becky, you have nothing to be sorry for…"

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"I was looking at you," she explained in an emotionless low voice, "And I _wanted_ you but… but you held my face and suddenly I didn't see you anymore, I was seeing…"

She never said the name. She didn't need to. Tom's heart sank deep in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, but she didn't reply. More hesitantly, he asked, "Can I hug you?"

She nodded. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and she buried herself in the embrace, her face pressed in his chest.

"I'm so sorry," she said again and her voice was breaking. Tom held her all the closer.

He suddenly remembered the first time he had waken up Jane by panicking in his sleep − not his first episode by far but the first she had witnessed. He shushed Becky as gently as he could, holding her close. How helpless he had felt in Jane's arms then, how weak. Maybe there had been a meaning to it after all, granting him the strength to support Becky in his turn. A reason not to feel so void, so hopeless. A purpose to make her feel safe.

He promised Grace a thick extra pay for letting him spend the night here with Becky.

It happened again. Not every time, by far not even most times, but not just the once either. There was a ghost looming over Becky, a fear deep down that occasionally won over her better sense. She never once gave him a more detailed description of what had been done to her. She didn’t need to, as Tom could very well guess. In his own selfish way, he was relieved that she didn’t. His heart was sore with compassion already, breaking again every time he learned of another way she had been hurt. The aim was now to accommodate, to bend himself to all the ways her past reemerged and avoid them at all cost.

Some triggers, she could admit to him. No choking her, no slapping her, as far away as could be from Tom's idea of what sex ought to be about anyways. He tried as much as he could to keep her grounded in the moment with him, to connect with her so wholly, so intimately that even her own mind couldn't tear her from it. Mostly, he succeeded and their sex life was better than anything he had ever known, better even than it had been when they were horny kids. Mostly, he could make her feel loved and craved and cherished. It felt good to give himself permission to love so dearly. His hands found a better purpose, not holding a gun or a tool or any other damn thing, but holding her hands, touching and loving her.

Others, even she didn’t know about and they found out only in the moment. There was no rationale to it, no matter how much they wanted it to. Becky didn’t always know she would suddenly become too overwhelmed with the past to indulge in the present. It was certain positions, certain acts, sudden flashbacks beyond either of their control. All Tom could do was listen and love.

Valentine Day went all wonky for them. It was their first since they had gotten back together. Neither of them were especially intent on giving the day any more importance than any other date night, but neither of them were caustic enough to not take the opportunity to celebrate romance if they could, either. Jane had never cared for it. He never asked what Stanley had thought of it. He didn’t need to. Love, he told himself, was just about the opposite of what Stanley had given Becky all these years. Still, artificial as the date was, he had hoped for a better night for them than that.

The reservation he had made turned out to be for a table out in the patio of the restaurant rather than the inside without telling him. Becky had been chilly all night despite the heaters, despite Tom’s jacket and his arm around her. The place had been crowded and loud and, to top it all off, expensive. Through no fault of their own or of the staff either, their orders took an eternity to be brought to the table and she was shivering by the time they were served. At the end of the night, they were both eager to be just on their own in a warm bed. Tim was at home with Grace all paid for till the morning anyways, and they drove back to Becky’s exhausted.

They went to bed immediately, the house too cold yet, but under the covers there was nothing but the warmth of his hands on her, all they needed. She was naked under him, pressed flat into the bed comfortably and taking the back rub he offered to relax and warm her up. She sighed with satisfaction.

"That’s nice," she muttered.

He could feel the tension slowly leaving her. Rose-perfumed massage oil, an indulgence for the purpose of this very night, his palms roaming her back, her butt, her shoulders, straddled on her hips in his boxers. She was soon loose and floppy under his touch. They weren’t cold at all anymore, not in their little cocoon of warmth under several blankets. He kissed the back of her neck.

"You look beautiful," he said and saw her smile, her face turned to the side on the pillow over her folded arms.

Tom wasn’t always the most expressive, the most sensitive person. He knew his feelings, his strength of heart, but didn’t always know how to word them for her to receive. He could only hope she understood how much he cared in every action, every gesture. He had used to think he knew her by heart. He didn’t know if he had just been too hopeful back then or if Becky had simply become more complex over time, if he had changed too much too. The best way he found now was just to ask.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

She parted her legs a little better and nodded in invitation.

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeated.

His fingers tracing the shape of her, top to bottom, stopping at her clit, circles around it. Becky moaned into the pillow. One finger inside, two fingers inside. She was wet with his attentions and squirmed deeper in the mattress the more he paid them. He was getting hard and tugged down his boxers, if not to bring himself pleasure right now, at least the relief of no longer being constrained. How hot she was around his fingers, getting looser the more he touched her. He leaned down, pushed tendrils of hair to the side to kiss the soft skin of her back. He kissed her shoulder, the back of her neck, his body pressed close to hers, the embrace so complete.

"Becky, babe," he said softly and kissed her ear. "Do you want me to make love to you?"

Sentimental for the sake of Valentine's Day, for the sake of loving Becky as schmaltzy as he felt inside.

"Uh huh."

He stroked her clit with his thumb, waiting for a full answer. She nodded.

"Yes."

He pulled his boxers all the way off, parted her legs to him. A condom from the box they kept in the night stand. His dick passed between her thighs a couple of times, wetting it and, a hand on her butt cheek, the other guiding himself in the wet warmth beneath, Tom groaned. She felt so good, she always had. He rocked his hips into hers, adjusting himself to better fit between her spread legs. Long copper hair the color of fall leaves at their most crisp covered her shoulders and the pillow. Beautiful. Just perfect. He leaned down to kiss her back and held her by the waist, getting into a steadier rhythm. She was loose with his caresses, the best of embraces, and as cozy and hot as the air under too many blankets. The fabric slid against his back with every thrust, the soft sound of skin touching skin again and again.

"You feel amazing, babe," he whispered against her ear.

A shitty evening finally reaching a blissful reward. Wasn't that just their lives' story?

"Tom…"

Kisses against her shoulder, the curve of her neck. He loved to breathe her in, fill his lungs and body with her.

"Yeah," he said softly.

But the way she squirmed was off and he paused.

"Hey, are you..."

"Stop," she breathed out painfully. "Please."

"Oh, fuck."

Immediately he pulled out, removed himself away. He rolled off next to her, landing on a small pile of pillows they had shoved to the side, and tore off the condom. His dick was sticking out ridiculously hard and hid it under a cushion. Becky's body was tense, her face buried in the bed, clutching the sheets on either side of her head.

"I'm so sorry," he tried, but guilt was crippling him all the same. "I was trying to… I mean, I thought..."

"It's fine," she said, though she didn't seem to believe it much herself, "I…"

She sighed. Her body was trembling and he was certain she was crying, or had, but she hated letting him see her tears. He would have hated seeing them, but he still wanted to be there for them. For all of her.

"I didn't know this would… trigger it. I should have."

He knew all too well the horror of memories unexpectedly swarming up to the surface and taking over any rational sense in him.

"But you couldn't have."

He let some time pass. He craved to hold her, comfort her, try to impart on her as much of his love as he could, whatever was left of him that still could be useful to another person, but Becky preferred not to be touched during her panics, not immediately. She came to him on her own eventually, snuggling into his side. Her face pressed against his torso and she pulled the blanket between them.

"Do you want to put clothes back on or, or are you good?"

"I'm good," she said.

Her voice was very quiet, her face hot against his skin. He wrapped an arm around her, reaching down to rub small mindless circles into her still oily back.

"I don't think I want to have sex again tonight though."

He let out a breath. As if that mattered to him now.

"Of course," he said. More hesitantly, he asked, "Do you… erm, do you know what it was? That brought back all the…"

He trailed off. He had never been good with words. They never worked in his favor to describe the shape of the monster looming over her or himself. Avoiding them was easier and the path towards healing was difficult, but inevitable.

"It was…" She lost her words, sighed and caught them again. "I think it was not facing you. Not seeing for sure that it's you."

She sighed, as if exasperated at herself. He loved her so much more than he ever thought he had in these moments. He longed to let her know just how much, to assure her that, though his pain was a very different shape, he understood the notion under it. He knew what it felt for your past to re-emerge again and again and again. He kissed the top of her head and she looked up. Boring deep into his eyes, she touched his face with hesitant fingers as if she was recognizing him all anew.

"You don't look the same, you don't feel the same, but…"

He nodded.

"It makes you see things like they're something else, right?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just, I panicked."

He turned his head to the side to press a kiss in the palm of her hand. It felt good to have her in his arms, to try and love her any way he could. It was what she deserved, but both of them reaped the rewards of it.

"You know, when I came back the second time," he said after some time, "It was a little bit before the Fourth of July, I wasn't expecting it, some of the guys invited me over to their house party like the old days… The fireworks started and I just, I lost it."

In this instant, in every instant that brought them together, he understood her so intimately, no matter how different their experiences. He too did not linger on the details of it more than needed either, kept his own monster private except the parts that mattered. He never pressed Becky to tell more than she already did, because he knew how painful it could be to go over the past.

"The panic, the pain, the tears, everything, I… I got that. And many times after." He breathed. Becky's eyes were fixed on him, peaceful blue, the quiet of a blue sky. "I was without a girlfriend, sad as stone, and without a clue of what it all was too, but… Now, I have both."

She kissed him so very softly, a gentle acknowledgement that she was here to stay.

"I'm not alone and neither are you." The way her eyes softened at his words, how shy and subtle her smile. "I just stay indoors with earplugs on the Fourth of July, and I know that and the buddies know that too, now. If you can… I mean, if you can manage to tell me what I can't or can do, then that'll be that…"

"Thank you, Tom," she said. It was no more than a whisper, like she was too exhausted for more. She sighed. "I think I… I want to see you."

"I want to see you too," he said with a smile, more teasing than usual, bringing her hand to his lips for another kiss.

"I meant in bed," she replied on the same playful tone, which he counted as a victory. How strange the reversal, he thought, cheering the cheer captain. "I think I need to see that it's you. See your face when we… Which is plain and boring, I guess, but…"

He kissed her nose and she never finished whatever self-conscious lie she was saying.

"Plain and boring it is," he said, grinning.

He kissed her mouth, so eagerly received, like she had been afraid to disappoint him in some way. Like she ever needed to fear that.

"I'm not tired of that pretty face, babe," he concluded and that was the end of that.

It wasn't plain and boring anyways. She had always been anything but boring. Loving her in any way at all was thrilling and seductive and Tom would have gladly looked into her eyes for ever and ever.

They were starting to settle into this new relationship, the comfort of it all. The boring stuff getting in the way, the reward of seeing her when it was all done with. Ever more, Tom realized how much he craved her in his life. They had not seen each other all week, a busy time at the shop and at the hospital, a night at Emma’s with Tim on his only slow day, never something he would have thought he would do back when Emma openly hated him. By the time they could catch up, he thought he could never bear to be apart, so sorely he had missed her in just a few days.

"I missed you," she told him herself between kisses.

Her back bouncing on the bed as she dropped on it, pulling him on top of her, arms latched around his neck never to let him go. Legs parted to wrap around his hips and rocked into him. He groaned when he felt her reach down, try and fail to unbuckle his belt one handed.

"Do you need help with anything, miss Barnes?" He smirked.

She kissed him. Lips and tongue and teeth, pouring herself whole into it. Tom took pity on her and, sitting up, made a teasing show of unbuckling as slowly as he could till Becky whimpered in frustration and he lost his patience himself. Belt undone, jeans and boxers fell to the ground and Becky let out a laugh when he tugged the pants off of her hurriedly. A hand around his dick stroking him rock hard, another pulling him down to kiss him again and again.

"You’re antsy," he managed between kisses.

Her palm tightened around the head of his dick teasingly before she stroked him again snug and fast, spreading wetness and her hips pulled him ever closer to her.

"Maybe I am," she said. "Maybe I’ve thought about you a lot this week."

She grabbed his hand to have him touch her. Pushing the fabric aside, he felt her wet for him, so warm around his fingers. She rocked herself into the touch. Off with her shirt, kisses against her breasts, how soft her skin there.

"Yeah? What did you think about?"

Her nipple hardened by the caress of his tongue, he switched to the other. Becky moaned. Two fingers inside her pumped in rhythm with her hand around his dick. She pushed his plaid off his shoulders, pooling at his elbows for he refused to break contact to shrug it off entirely.

"You know what I thought about."

The hot tender skin under her breasts, of her stomach, back to her neck again, her ear. She smelled so good. How did she always smell so good?

"Kinda think I’m thinking about it too," he muttered.

Her fingers gripping his hair, pressing his face into her neck for more kisses. He never left a mark − that was off limits − but loved how warm he felt there, how comfortable. Her hand stopped, loosened around him.

"Get a condom, Tom," she told him softly.

He nodded and sat up. Plaid all the way off, tank top pulled off by a very eager Becky equally stripped to her naked glory by himself. He could never believe how beautiful she was, no matter how often he saw her bare before him. A condom from the drawer, all wrapped up, and Becky’s legs around his hips drove him to her again. Her fingers around him guided him inside.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he sighed out after just the first thrust.

The moans of her, never something he could get over, how she clung to him, gripping his back and shoulders tight, how her legs wrapped snug around him to have him as deep as they could. Becky was comfort, she was bliss. She kissed him, something sloppy, lazy about it.

"And you, big guy," she said in that dreamy voice she could get when they made love.

He leaned on his arms for support and to better look at her face, her hands clasped around his biceps. Her mouth was half open, perfect plump lips, her cheeks flushed pink. Their bodies rolled with one another, every thrust so well received as she bucked into him.

"That what you were thinking of?" He said. His voice had gotten deep and a bit raspy, nothing he could help. "You wanted this, babe."

He had only tried to be enticing, but he knew at once he had made the wrong choice. Becky tensed up under him and her face tightened.

" _Don’t._ "

"Shit, sorry, I’m sorry!"

He stopped and made to pull out but Becky’s legs kept him close.

"No no, don’t stop, just…" She sighed. Her fingers brushed his arms up and down softly. "Please don’t tell me what I want."

"Okay…"

His heartbeat was deafening at his ears as he tried to process it all. He blinked. She was staring up at him with an expression he could not decipher but when he smiled, she smiled back.

"Yeah, okay."

He moved again, pulling back and pressing inside her again. How soft her smile then, like he was forgiven for the slight a thousand times. The rush was gone from them, though, and he was cautious not to offend again. Becky’s eyes on him, her hair spilling over the pillow, he felt taken with love for her like nothing before. He never wanted to hurt her, not ever in his life.

"Do you wanna tell me what you want?"

Becky bit her lip. Her hips rocked into him again ever so slightly.

"I want you to kiss me," she said in a soft whisper.

He kissed her, of course, a hand cupping her face to him, thumb stroking her cheek, trying to impress into the kiss all the sorry love of his.

"And my neck."

He kissed her neck, breathing in her hair, the scent of Becky herself. His forearms on either side of her face, the embrace was much closer, more intimate now. Her left shoulder, trailing across her collarbone to the right. Becky sighed out contentedly. Her fingers played with hair at the back of his neck, twirling it. He felt so good in her, and in her arms. One of her hands caught his and pulled it down between their chests.

"Can you touch my breasts, too?"

He cupped a breast gently, circling his thumb around the nipple. Leaning down, he kissed it, then the other side. Becky’s head backed into the pillow and he heart a low whimper to encourage him. He felt the beat of her heart through her skin, strong and steady.

"That feels nice," she said softly.

He nodded and she huffed at his beard tickling her. The new slow rhythm was suiting them, it seemed, attuned to each other in a whole new way. He thought he could feel the embrace of her so much more when he took the time to note it, the way she clamped around him with every thrust, not a hint of hurry to them anymore.

"What else do you want, babe?"

"Your fingers," she replied at once.

He tapped said fingers against the skin of her stomach to be playful and she smiled.

"Where d’you want my fingers?"

She pushed down his hand between her legs and Tom obediently took the tacit order and rubbed her clit. She moaned out a bit louder as he matched his caresses with the roll of him in and out of her. Lips around a nipple, resting his arm near her shoulder in a semi embrace, there was nothing to do but love her the best he could. Becky's arms around him, his love was paid back more than full every little moan she sang him.

"What else?"

She touched his face to bring his eyes to hers.

"I want you to make me come."

He broke into a smile and gave her a quick kiss for it.

"That’s great, sweetheart," he said, "Cause that’s what I want too."

He picked up the pace just a little. Maybe there was something too rosy about him, but every time Becky and him had sex, or made love, or whichever it was, his heart was fuller and he felt the bond grow between them. He touched her, looked at her, loved her, easy as that. No matter the complications, the precautions, there was something simple about the act. He looked into her eyes, smiled. His fingers touching her, he could sense she was close and kept at it exactly as he was doing.

"Tom…"

She was gazing up at him and never broke eye contact when she came. The moan at her lips, the look in her eyes, how she gripped around his dick in her pleasure. He felt more alive than ever, so taken with emotion for her. A few more thrusts and he let himself go as well. For once in his life, he felt at peace and thought they would be alright. Nothing was ever going to be perfect, he was sure, but it was going to be okay. Some of it would always suck. Some of it would be great. He kissed her. He kissed her.

They lay in bed together afterwards, Becky tucked into his side. Her fingers on his stomach were toying with the trail of hair she found there.

"I love you, Tom," she said.

He smiled and leaned to kiss the top of her hair. Somehow, in their frenzy to prove to themselves how well they still loved one another, they had forgotten the exchange of the words themselves even after a few months of seeing each other. This was their first utterance since the last time they had exchanged them back forever ago. There was something soothing, Tom thought, about the fact that he had not been doubting her feelings in the least.

"I love you too."

Becky’s fingers stopped, instead flattening her hand on his torso.

"No, I mean… I love _you_. Not just Tommy from high school. Who you are right now."

He combed fingers through her hair softly sliding between them, shiny shiny red, scratched the back of her scalp, and tried to parse her meaning. Becky had this notion that they had changed so much since high school they might as well have been different people. He understood that − he hardly could remember the boy he had been before he had gone through the storm of life. But, he thought, no part of what had happened to them was separate from themselves. His story was a part of him just like hers. When he looked at her, he saw the same Becky he had fallen for fifteen, twenty years ago. He loved more, better now, but no amount of trauma made him think of her as another person. He sighed and hugged her close.

"I wonder what Tommy from high school would have become," he said. "If things had been... you know what I mean."

She hummed.

"Another lifetime," she said softly.

She kissed his shoulder, held him tight.

"I'm glad I still found you in this one."

They looked at each other and smiled before she tucked herself back into the embrace.

"Yeah," he said. "Fuck yeah, me too."


End file.
